Half Remembered Dream
by DanielleS
Summary: After Sam sacrifices himself to stop the devil, Dean knows there is only one way for him to see his brother again. Supernatural/Inception crossover, AU from Dream A Little Dream of Me & Swan Song.


A/N: Thanks to Salvachestore and element78 for previewing the story and helping me out when needed. I truly appreciate it, girls.

* * *

**Half Remembered Dream**

"_NO!" Dean screams, smacked against the hood of the car, watching helplessly as Lucifer breaks Bobby's neck with one swift movement of his hand. 'Not Bobby... not Bobby too', he thinks, when the wind is abruptly knocked out of him and the Devil hits him again, precisely, mercilessly, the intense pain and blood dripping down his chin making it impossible to focus... focus... no, he needs to carry on, do this one last task, for him and for Sammy._

"Dean."

_Dean turns around, fights a wave of nausea and gathers his strength._

"_Sammy? Are you in there?"_

"_Oh, he's in here, all right", Lucifer growls and punches Dean hard enough for him to feel a loud crack of his jaw._

"_And he's gonna feel the snap of your bones." Another punch, another crack and Dean collapses to the ground, unable to move, unable to think, his world reduced to a heap of pain -_

"Dean!"

"_Every single one. We're gonna take our time."_

_Hot. Cold. Sharp explosions of pain where Lucifer's fists meet his face. He wants to hide, beg to make it stop already, make it all stop, but he knows he can't. He needs to look out for his brother, no matter what happens, he always has to look out for Sammy. He catches hold of something solid in front of him and manages to get out a few gasped words._

„_Sam, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. "_

_Another jolt of pain. Dean slowly feels himself drifting into unconsciousness, a welcome oblivion._

„_I'm not gonna leave you."_

And he suddenly snaps awake.

* * *

"Ssh, Dean, it's alright, it's all gonna be alright... ssh..."

Something is clutching at his hand, but not painfully... the gesture is meant to calm down. Soothe. He feels a gentle taste of salt on his lips and realizes that a stream of tears is flowing down his cheek.

"I got you... No one's gonna hurt you anymore."

Not something, _someone_. Dean tries to concentrate on the person lying next to him and unthinkingly blurts out the first name that comes to his mind.

"Sammy?"

His eyes finally adjust and he sees a lean face with delicate features and chocolate brown eyes, looking down at him with a worried look. Wrinkles around her eyes deepen as the woman sighs and answers, not letting him go.

"Dean, it's me, Lisa. You're alright, you hear me? You're alright. It was just a nightmare."

_Lisa._

Dean, now fully awake, gently loosens her grip on his shoulders and sits up, careful not to hit her with his elbow as he wipes the tears off his face with the back of his palm. Lisa is watching him, not saying a word, fear and anxiety evident on her face. Dean turns away, his cheeks burning with shame, knowing what she must be thinking right now. When he turned up at her doorstep in the middle of the night two months ago, she could tell right away that something was wrong, but took him in anyway, without questions or complaints, offering the silent comfort he needed so much. He didn't tell her what had happened to Sam, how his little brother had sacrificed himself to stop the Devil... how Dean had just stood by, incapable of doing anything and watched his world shatter and fall apart.

He knew she was curious, but never asked, chose to let him make peace with himself first. The peace wouldn't come, though. He couldn't count all the times when he was just sitting on the couch with a bottle of beer, his mind far away, anger and guilt swelling up inside him like a hurricane that would tear him up from inside. All the times when he took it out on a car in the salvage yard, screaming himself hoarse because his brother didn't deserve this, and none of the junkless dicks above cared. All the times he pinned Lisa down to bed and sought for lethe in her arms, violent, hungry for penance and wishing to forget it all.

Dean is aware, painfully aware of the fact that Lisa has only put up with his crap because she expected him to get better, to heal and move on. There isn't any way to explain that no matter how hard he tries, he won't. He's damaged goods, he's not good enough for Lisa and Ben - especially for Ben - and they both know it.

It takes six more weeks and countless nightmares for Dean to realize that he can't ever sleep peacefully again. He wakes up tangled up in sheets at the sound of his own terrified moans, openly weeping, missing Sam so much that it feels like an actual physical pain in his chest. Lisa is always there, holding him tight and whispering sweet lies to his ears, and Dean's never hated himself more than in those moments.

* * *

She finds him standing near the fence one day, weighing a small object in his hand, his face carefully smoothed into an expressionless mask as he's gazing at the sun going down. She steps closer, takes Dean's hand in her own and glances at a small amulet he's holding. It's made of brass, a head with bull-like horns, time-worn and chipped off, but obviously dear to him. She takes it as a good sign that he didn't pull away, looks up and waits. He'll tell her if he's ready.

Dean takes a breath and, without taking his eyes off the sunset, murmurs a few muffled words. Uncomprehending, Lisa leans closer, and Dean repeats himself a bit louder.

"Sam gave it to me for Christmas when we were kids. "

"It's lovely", she says with a smile, and imagines Dean as a child. Stubborn, charming and loyal, undeniably, but perhaps without the ever-present sadness that seems to define him now.

Dean snorts and Lisa looks at him, puzzled.

"We were told it was magical... and some magic it worked, indeed," he says bitterly, and then seems to make an effort to control himself.

"I thought I'd never see it again when I threw it away. Cas got it back, though... said I should stick to it anyway. It's a bit chipped off in the back, see?"

Dean takes her hand and places the amulet in her palm, where the horned head tilts slightly to the side.

"It's just like me. Imperfect, scuffed, missing a piece that's not gonna be back ever again."

Lisa wants to tell him that he's wrong, that both the amulet and Dean can be repaired, but something in Dean's expression, the way his hollow eyes are still fixed at the indefinite point in the now darkened sky, seemingly reaching a painful decision, stops her. She's silent until Dean abruptly turns to face her and all of a sudden Lisa finds herself wishing he hadn't.

"Lisa, I don't... I don't think I can ever thank you enough for what you did for me. If it weren't for you, I'd probably go crazy in the first week. But I know... and I know you know it too... that we can't carry on like this."

She closes her eyes and realizes how inevitable this moment was. She's tried anything and given everything to make him better, but it's not her Dean wants to have on his side. That much she's figured, from the way he always storms out of the room when Sam is mentioned... from the nights Dean spends crying out for him, begging someone not to take him away.

She could ask him to stay, but it would only hold him back. Dean needs to deal with his loss in his own way, and if it doesn't involve her... may it be.

Dean has shifted his weight, waiting for her reaction, even though she sees in his face that nothing she'll say can change his mind. Instead, Lisa hesitantly closes her arms around him, letting the touch speak for her.

* * *

Dean is the first to break the embrace. He'd never admit it out loud, but he longs for simple human touch, for someone to hold him together. Lisa, once again, knew what he needed even without words and was, like always, willing to give it. Dean realizes he owes her even more than he thought.

It doesn't take him long to pack his stuff, as there wasn't much to begin with. It's more difficult to explain why he has to leave to an eleven year old kid, resolved not to let him go. Dean finally manages to console Ben, saying he'll stop by whenever he can. He doesn't look at Lisa, who's watching them from afar, but he doesn't have to. She can hear the sting of the lie in his words anyway.

They say goodbye on the porch, strangely self-conscious, and before Dean knows, he's driving away, only the smell of her perfume clinging to his jacket after one last chaste kiss. He's positive he'll regret the decision to drive at night in the morning, but decides against pulling off at a motel. The last thing he needs right now is another nightmare about Lucifer jumping Sam's bones.

It's almost noon when he parks the car at Bobby's, feeling a familiar ache in his chest, together with fatigue from the lack of sleep. He climbs out of the car and walks to the door. Before he can knock on it, however, the door swings open, a chirpy, short-haired woman walks out and almost bursts into Dean, who manages to catch her forearm and steady her before she falls over.

"I'm sorry", she breathes out, "I should have looked. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, don't sweat it," Dean smiles and nods before he lets go of her.

A distant thump is heard from the house, followed by a few delicate swearwords from Bobby's collection. The older hunter hobbles to the door with a concerned look on his face.

"You alright, Jody? I swear, if someone let a piece of scrap lying around at my front door again – "

Bobby stammers and halts at the sight of Dean, who grins and steps forward to pull the man into a tight hug. Bobby, looking flabbergasted, waves the woman goodbye and lets Dean go to take a look at him, really look, like he knows exactly what's going on in his head and heck, he probably does. Dean doesn't miss the frown that crosses Bobby's forehead, but before he can comment on it, Bobby's already pulling him inside for a beer and scolding him for not keeping in touch and, for the first time in months, Dean feels good.


End file.
